


Eyes

by linguistatheart



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 11:10:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5414591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linguistatheart/pseuds/linguistatheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a Weeping Angel falls in love with a human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes

Eyes. Whenever someone stares at me, the first thing I notice is his eyes. Lots of people see me every day. I’m just another fixture on their way to school or work. When their peripheral vision notices me, it barely registers -- either to them or to me. But once in a while, someone looks at me and truly notices. In the past I’ve been studied, climbed on, cleaned and dirtied. Once, a man even feared me. He discovered what I was. Right before I eliminated him.

Just so we’re clear on one thing: I am not a killer. I am a survivor, living proof of Darwinism.

Well, I say living. That goes on and off. Right now, it’s off. My body is stone cold. But my mind is still here, free to think, plan, observe, and, to a short extent, wander.

I can feel someone’s eyes on me now. I drift towards the direction the gaze is coming from. I’m vain enough to be proud whenever someone actually takes the time to notice me, so I want to see his face in return. There are several people lounging in the square where I stand. There are so many people picnicking, smoking, and feeding pigeons that it takes me a full minute to find my observer. And then, there he was. He was casually sitting on the steps that lead up to some building (I had never bothered to find out which). His dark hair wasn’t long, and it looked tousled from being blown by the wind. His dress was simple, yet professional. Dark jeans, collared shirt with a vest. He was talking with a friend. Both were drinking soda, but his attention kept drifting back towards me. He seemed infatuated.

Strangely, so was I. He was no different than any of the thousands of humans I’ve seen. He was common, he was unremarkable, and he was beautiful.

Eventually, his friend waved goodbye and disappeared into the crowd. I didn’t see where he went. I didn’t really care. My attention was fixed on the man watching me. Now that his friend was gone, he was staring openly. He reached behind him, pulled out a messenger bag I hadn’t noticed before, and as he stood up he slung it over his shoulder. He pulled out a camera and started walking. He walked right past my invisible, incandescent state. I turned to walk away, only to see he was walking towards me. The physical me. I swooped back into myself just as he arrives. He looms close, examining me from every angle. His face draws close to mine. I can’t feel his breath, but I like to think it’s warm as it cascades across my nose. He stands back, holds the camera up to his eye. Immobile as I was, I did what I could to look my best.

I couldn’t say how long he took pictures of me, but I can say my heart gave a lurch when he walked away. Or, it would have if it had been beating. I did feel sad, somehow.

Compared with the thrill of this man’s brown eyes boring into me, the rest of the day was a bore. I was still feeding off the energy of my last meal, so I didn’t need to hunt. I did pass on potential targets to my kinsmen, though.

Young woman, early twenties. Seems to be single and robust. Plenty of life ahead of her, seems like she could adjust to life in a different time well. She’s headed your way.

As long as you stay out of our way, the chances of becoming a next meal is relatively small. Living in big cities like this one, there’s plenty for us to feed on. We choose our victims carefully. Even then, if you are chosen, we’ll kill you nicely. You’ll even get to live out the rest of your days. I really don’t know why some find us so terrifying.

Get in our way and that’s a different story entirely. Get in our way and...well, just don’t. Maybe I do know why we’re thought to be the big bad after all.

The day faded into night. The city gradually died into dark and quiet.

Finally.

Life snapped back into me and I was on the prowl, speeding through the city streets. I peered in every window I see until I found the one I was looking for. Ninth story, second window from the right. Conveniently right over a fire escape platform. Now I don’t need to hang off the wall.

In sleep he was almost more beautiful than when he’s awake. He’s so still, so serene, he could almost be one of us. If he had less color, that is. I saw the roll of undeveloped film on a table by his bed. I sensed the newly created minds rolling, wondering when to come out. I reached out with my mind. Patience, I advised them. Wait until the photos are developed and sold and scattered. Distance is our safety net and our curse.

Suddenly, the fire escape cracked and nearly fell. Apparently, it couldn’t support my weight. At the noise, he shot up out of bed and stared out the window, straight at me.

I ceased.

He crept slowly towards me, hair askew and blanket wrapped firmly around his shoulders. He squinted into the darkness, stared at me. Confusion, then comprehension dawned on his face. He recognized me.

He blinked. I left.

I made my way back to my spot in my square and waited for the world to wake back up. It didn’t take long. Dead once more. I watch people, but without much interest. I berate myself for being so foolish and careless to let him see me like that. Now I would probably never see him again. My kin could sense my distress. They tried to cheer me up.

There’s a young one walking your way. She’d make a great meal.

I saw the girl they were talking about. Appetizing but...no. I wasn’t in the mood to feed. Why was I acting this way? He was only a human. Nothing special about him. And if he was too much of a coward to come back here after what happened last night, then he clearly wasn’t worth my time. Still. I couldn’t help but miss him. I needed a distraction in the most terrible way.

Then I felt them. Eyes on me again. Staring. Two days in a row, someone has really looked. This was almost too much. I ventured out to see who it was this time. I couldn’t believe what I saw.

It’s him. He came back.

He came walking towards me, a cautious expression on his face. My interest in him piqued, sharper than it was before. I saw the recognition on his face the night before, saw his fear. And who wouldn’t be afraid? It must be terrifying to see something you had thought inanimate to suddenly be standing outside your bedroom window. Yet, he came back. This man had courage. He stepped up, and brought his face close, examining my eyes with his own. He reached his fingers up and caressed my face. God. What wouldn’t I give to be able to feel that touch.

Today, he did not leave. Today, he sat at my feet for hours in complete silence. He didn’t seem to know what to do. Not that I blame him. You take pictures of a statue, you go home. You expect the statue to stay put, but then it shows up outside your bedroom window in the middle of the night. This must be a curious individual to dare come back to the statue, let alone stay with it for an entire day. He examined me more thoroughly over the course of the day. Normally, I would have objected to being objectified so, but to him I was only an object. It would take time, but I was determined to prove otherwise to him. As night fell, he circled around me one more time, murmuring promises of return the next day. It would be much sooner than that, however. I was determined to make another visit that night. And I did.

We fell into a pattern, he and I. It was an endless cycle of reaching and seeking answers we could never attain. He sought to understand the mystery of his attraction to me. Each day he would be drawn back to me, each day he would wonder why, each day he would try and leave. But he always came back. Most days, he brought a book to read, to pass the time I suppose. Sometimes he talked to me, though I lacked the ability to respond. Sometimes it made me feel strange inside to think that this would always be the case. It made me feel as though Earth’s gravity suddenly had a stronger grip on my insides, feel like my otherwise awkward weeping position was much more natural. I wish I knew what these feelings meant. I wish I could ask him. Every day he came to me and read books and sentences and words. Emotions were always a factor in them. They were factors I didn’t understand. Despite that, I liked listening to him speak. I liked hearing his voice roll over me every day. Don’t think this relationship was completely one-sided. Each night, as soon as my existence was complete once more, I would fly to him. Some nights he woke and saw me, blowing my body back into a lifeless stone. Then he’d blink, and I’d be gone.

I didn’t trap any potential energy in this time. Every rare moment of life I spent chasing him, chasing knowledge of him. I wanted to understand him, to understand why he took pictures and why he cried at some books but not at others. How could I waste a second of that time hunting? My kinsmen warned me that I needed to feed soon, or I would cease to exist forever. I ignored them. I still had some energy left from my last meal, though it was starting to get low. My mind was starting to fuzz at the edges. My movements were starting to get slow. Sill fast enough to avoid human eyes at night though. It was enough energy to get by, and that’s all I needed. Just enough to see him.

Then, one day, he didn’t come. Nor the next. I went to his house that night as soon as I existed again. He wasn’t there, but others were. Strangely, they were still awake, so I stayed back in the shadows lest they saw me. I observed. There were five or six of them; they kept walking in and out of the room and all humans look the same to me. All except him, that is. They walked without any of the energy or cheer of those who frequented my square. I was tempted to blame it on fatigue and the late hour, but something told me that wasn’t the reason for their dreariness. Their eyes were strangely puffy. Occasionally, one would make a loud noise and cover its face with its hands, water leaking from the eyes. Strange, as it wasn’t raining. Perhaps they had seen the pictures he had taken of me, and were trying to imitate my stature.

No, there was the roll of film on the dresser, still undeveloped. Perhaps not.

I left before someone saw me.

The next day, he didn’t come again. I waited -- I had no choice but to wait -- but nothing. My kinsmen helped me watch from their places in the city. The people were still in his apartment. Other than that, no news. The next day was different. One of my kin saw the people put a long black box into a long black car. That car and many others drove to a place of stone squares just outside the city. I have many friends there. They tell me the humans put the box in the ground and placed a stone over the spot. The humans all had water leaking from their eyes.

Then, comprehension. It took so long to realize. It can never happen to me or my kind. It isn’t a symptom we have.

My human. The one with the camera. The one with the eyes who noticed me who came back who saw who cared.

He is dead.

My mind exploded. I couldn’t hear my kin. Couldn’t hear anything. Couldn’t move -- too many people were looking at me. I wanted to rip out every eye in every human to look my way until I could get to the cemetery. I strained against my nonexistence. Pushed. Damn this curse. My weapon of survival turned into the thing that’s killing me.

Hours passed. No existence, no movement. I was mentally exhausted by the time the night becomes young again. Finally freed, I raced to the grave. Its location was burned in my memory from what my kin transmitted. But something was wrong. My speed was off. I pushed towards the cemetery but it was hard and slow. Slower every step. What was wrong with me? Then I felt a pang in my stomach.

My potential energy. My food source. It had run out. I was on my final moments of energy from my last target. I needed to find another meal, now.

But the cemetery was so close. I could see it. Just a final look. That’s all I wanted. Then I’d find a nice source of potential energy and live a nice long life. Without his eyes. One more look.

I staggered towards his grave. Then stumbled. Less energy than I thought.

One more look.

Tripped. Never happened before. Got up and kept moving. Could see the grave. So close to him. Tripped again. Couldn’t get up.

Reached. I could touch it from here. I knew I wouldn’t make it to my next target. Didn’t care.

So close.

I think I understand emotions now.

Contact.


End file.
